The knees of the bees as they dance in the breeze
In the scintillate shade of the sycamore trees,
The rays on the dew drops, their shine on the leaves…
Still not half the beauty in her when she grieves.
First hints of dawn on a gossamer cloud,
A shoreline so silent the tide sings aloud,
Sun rising splendid on gentle wave crests…
They pale to the light in her eyes when she jests.
Gardens of lavender, tulip and rose
Reflected, resplendent, in yon stream and brook
under boughs of luxuriant pine , to this nose?
All rank next to the scent of her, stale and forsook.
Voracious, voluminous, the sands of time flow on
Eternity entangled in the narrow glass of now
I look upon the loves, those here or not yet here or gone
I wonder at the delicate deliciousness of how
It is my faith, my heart, my breath that we shall meet again
It is my life, this catechism, this truth that rules the clock
That we are one, together, whole. Women, children, men.
To buy one’s own humanity, one must stop first, take stock.
As I look upon the wayward steps that led me here,
Again I marvel at the perfect wholeness of our days.
Furtive glances cachet for another world to steer
Into conversations that will leave us all, by endless grace, amazed.
– – – – –
For Sam, and all those we have lost. May they be at peace until we join them, and in eternal joy thereafter.
Thank you all for your support of the Davidiclineage blog. I’ve entered a new phase of my life, one whose hallmark is self acceptance. To mark this occasion, I officially close the first segment of the blog.
Many thanks to the fellow bloggers who have made the growth I have experienced possible; Simply Stella, David Redpath, Erroneous Choices, Little Fears, Scribbler’s Arena, Dracul Van Helsing and of course Interdimensional Refugee to name a few of the most notable.
Extra special thanks to Celia Hales of Prayers to the Cosmos for honest and unblemished faith. Your prayers have helped greatly in teaching me what it means to humble myself before God.
As you were, friends.
My word processor might be shot
I take in sharp, direct commands
I level gaze and measure speech
I keep my own rage well in hand.
Seems the rage is global, now;
The ever present other-blame
The working up a hateful row,
To leave the blood and timelines stained.
Calling on the battle spirits carved into the WORD
I offer songs of peace to sell a land, a time, a home…
Seconding myself by ancient rites of Sisterhood
I call my love my own, and damn the breaking of the bone.
Battle battalion; Third. Wyld Stallyn.
Role in the Universe; Science Supreme.
Guide on the path for some man-boys in trouble.
Helping assembled hand let off some steam.
Once upon a time, there was a Turkey Bird. Her brother was a Monkey.
Their mother was a dogheart, but a good one. Ape brained all the way.
They ate Kentucky Fried Chicken. Together.
It definitely happened.
Two points; one, charge double on weekends.
Two, stop serving Jews.
You stop counting points where you stop counting futures.
I stop telling lies when you tell me I’m true.
I stop walking wounded when heel is in step.
I stop bitching endlessly now.